


I Just Wanna Be A Kid Again

by bryzknowstheuniverse



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Childhood Friends, Eddie helps him get over that, Face-Fucking, Facials, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Reddie, Richie is a massive crybaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:31:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryzknowstheuniverse/pseuds/bryzknowstheuniverse
Summary: Richie is most definitely the crybaby of the Losers Club.





	I Just Wanna Be A Kid Again

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr, thegreatwhiteferret, for an Anon request.

Richie Tozier was to put it nicely….a crybaby. He would pout his lips and stomp his foot when he didn’t get his way. Thick tears would roll from behind his glasses when he felt like there was injustice. He was just a soft and sweet boy under all of his raunchy and sarcastic commentary. 

 

The thing is, Richie isn’t allowed to cry at home. When he was seven years old, little Richie Tozier had come home from school in tears, some older boys Vic and Patrick had cornered him in the boys bathroom and shoved his face into the toilet, flushing repeatedly, while they called him names. He was covered in Derry Elementary’s toilet water, and he was rightfully sad about it. He had barely stepped through the door when his father saw the tears, a disgusted snarl coming across his face. Richie stopped dead in his tracks, but it was too late. His father slapped him so hard across his face that his glasses flew across the room.

 

“What do you have to cry about you little pussy?” He spat, landing another blow this time to Richie’s left eye. Richie knew better than to answer, if he sunk into himself, it would be over faster. “That’s all you are, you little faggot. A pussy. Real men don’t cry. Now stop your blubbering before I give you something to cry about, and go get me a beer.”

 

Richie ran to his room and steeled away his nerves. That would be the last time that he ever cried in front of his father. The last time that Richie would cry anywhere but in the shower when he was alone with his thoughts, until he was fifteen. 

  
  


The years of forced repression of his emotions corroded Richie’s mental health. He copes as best as he can with self deprecating jokes and being over the top. He accepts the nickname of Trashmouth, even though deep down the name really hurts him. They’re sitting in the Hanscom basement when it happens. Richie stumbles in after a brutal lecture from the school guidance counselor about his wasted potential. He opens the freezer in the corner that stores the snacks that Ben’s mom keeps stocked for them and pulls out the empty Fudgsicle box. 

 

“Where are the Fudgsicles?” Richie asks, eyebrows furrowing and mind going slightly fuzzy. Mike quickly shoves something in his mouth and then throws the evidence behind him. Eddie and Bill look incredibly guilty. Bev and Ben shrug slightly, and Stan Uris sits with his legs crossed as he shamelessly licks up and down the side of a glorious Fudgsicle. 

 

“Sorry, Rich. We must be all out. I’ll let my mom know and she will get some more when she goes to the store.” Ben says, frowning. “There are some other popsicles in there. Bev and I just had rocket pops and those were good…” He stops when he sees Richie’s lip start to tremble.

 

They all freeze, and then it happens. Richie starts bawling his eyes out. He sinks to the ground and he’s shaking. Snot and tears running down his face as he chokes on sobs. Bill swoops in immediately, wrapping his arms around Richie and letting him cry on his shoulder. He rubs his back like he does for Georgie when he’s upset. When he calms down a bit the fear of their disgust and rejection hits him. He tries to push back from Bill’s embrace.

 

“I’m so...sorry. I don’t know what happened. I know that boys don’t cry, I’m sorry, I’ll go.” He mutters out, fixing his glasses and tries to stand. Bill pulls him right back down.

 

“Wh-what are y-you talking about, R-rich?” Bill asks, he looks confused, in fact all of them do. Richie doesn’t have an answer. 

 

“Richie, it’s okay to cry. Everyone cries sometimes. Why would you think that it wasn’t okay?” Eddie asks gingerly.

 

“M-my dad.” That’s all he has to say, they understand. Suddenly he has six bodies cramming around him and pressing him into one giant group bear hug. The knot in Richie’s chest releases, and he lets the years of holding everything in melt away. He knows that he doesn’t have to hide his emotions in front of his friends anymore, they’re his real family.

  
  


From that day forward Richie becomes known as the crybaby of the group. They don’t tease him over it, they just accept that if something goes wrong, Richie will probably have a mini meltdown about it. 

  
  


He literally cries over spilt milk. They’re in Bill’s kitchen, making plans for some Renaissance Faire trip that Bev is dying to go to and Mike accidentally swings his arm back and hits the cup that Richie had patiently been mixing for the past few minutes. The chocolate milk goes everywhere, and as Bill moves to get the mop and paper towels to clean it up, Richie starts.

 

“Oh my God, No! Why do bad things happen to good people?” He’s full on crying, staring at the chocolate milk puddle on the ground.

 

“Richie. Are you fucking serious? It was just a cup of milk, Mike didn’t mean to knock it over, it was an accident.” Stan says, mildly irritated with the level of dramatics coming from the other boy. 

 

“IT WASN’T JUST A CUP OF MILK, STANLEY! IT WAS THE PERFECT RATIO OF NESQUIK TO MILK!!!” Richie punctuates every other word by stomping his feet, and Eddie just sighs and pulls Richie out of the room before the conflict escalates. He was not letting his boyfriend get in a fight with his best friend over a glass of spilt fucking milk.

  
  


Sometimes he cries over things that don’t even apply to his life. The Losers Club go to see The Lion King in the theater. Everything was going fine until Scar throws Mufasa off of the cliff and tells Simba to leave and never come back. Richie loses his shit. They all stare at him wide eyed as he stands up and screams at the animated characters on the screen, “THAT UGLY ASS BASTARD! NO SIMBA!” They all sink into their seats, praying that they aren’t permanently banned from the movie house. Richie leans into Eddie’s shoulder and cries until he calms down. They decide as a group to skip all Disney movies in theaters going forward.

  
  


Eddie thinks that it’s pretty much like dating a toddler at times. Sometimes it’s avoidable, Eddie really didn’t need to refuse to leave the house for their anniversary dinner until Richie changed out of his hideous rainbow tie dyed Grateful Dead bear button up….except his brain said he really freaking did. Some were not. Eddie couldn’t control the fact that his mother banned Richie from her house for a month and bolted his window shut. 

  
  


The Richie Ban has just been lifted when one of the unavoidable times happens. Richie is beaming, he just got a ninety three percent on his statistics test and he’s running down the hallway to tell his friends, when a foot jets out to trip him. Richie flies through the air and crashes to the ground. Richie looks up and sees Belch standing over him laughing. 

 

“Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything to you.” Richie says shaking and flinching from the way the bully is looking at him.

 

“You little queer, you think I need an excuse to pummel your stupid ass? You’re not going to do anything about it because you’re weak, and your friends are weak. Stupid fucking gay Losers.” Richie doesn’t respond, he’s too busy getting his ass kicked and his glasses are broken again.

 

He’s sitting at Eddie’s kitchen table after school when he’s handed an ice pack. He takes it and presses it to his cheek. Eddie sits down across from him and starts working on mending his glasses. He thinks that now would be a perfectly acceptable time for Richie to start crying, but he’s sitting there with his thinking face on. 

 

“Why is the world so awful, Eds? I’m always getting picked on. My glasses. My fucking ADHD. The fact that I’m gay. How could the world hate me for loving you?” Eddie holds his hand, he knows that the world isn’t fair and that Richie has to deal with an unnecessary amount of bullshit. This warm feeling is a little overturned when Richie starts whining. Eddie feels like an awful boyfriend, but the sound of Richie whining really turns him off. “Ughhhhhhh. I just wanna be a kid again, so I can go back to not giving a shit again.” 

 

Richie starts crying again, and then starts crying over the fact that he cries so much. Eddie needs for it to stop before it becomes a full on episode. So he decides to go with what seems to most effectively distract Richie.

 

“Baby.” He drawls out biting his lip, waiting for Richie to look at him, but his boyfriend is too busy wallowing in self pity. He tries again, “Mmmm, Rich?” Nothing. Eddie is being his best little slutty self and his boyfriend is totally ignoring him. “RICHARD!” He screams.

 

“Jesus, Eddie. What the fuck?” Richie responds, looking at Eddie like he’s grown three heads. “I’m having feelings and I’m trying to share them and you’re yelling at me.” 

 

“Oh my God. Oh my actual fucking God.” Eddie drops his head to the table, before just putting his ultimatum on the table. “If you stop crying, I’ll blow you right here and now.” 

 

“In your mother’s pastel yellow kitchen, you’re going to blow me?” Richie was still sniffling a little, residual tears falling.

 

“On my knees. In my mother’s pastel yellow kitchen. With the front door unlocked, and I’ll even let you cum on my face.” Richie’s jaw hit the floor, Eddie never let him do that, always so particular about the mess being made, and ‘seriously Richie, is it not bad enough that I’m letting you put your penis, which you piss out of, in my mouth, you want me to let you ejaculate on my face? What if it gets in my eye and I go blind?!?!” Richie was a crybaby, but Eddie was a hypochondriac. They made quite a pair. “Deal?” Eddie smirks, as Richie nods enthusiastically. “Drop your pants then, Baby Boy.” 

 

Richie didn’t have to be told twice. Eddie made it clear what was going to happen, he was in control, not Richie. Richie pulled his pants and boxers down, letting them pool at his ankles. Eddie sized him up, looking down right predatory, before motioning for Richie to take his shirt off too. Richie did and stood there, awkwardly naked in his boyfriend’s kitchen.

 

“Mmmm, please, Eds.” Richie moans, he needs something other than Eddie’s stare on him. Eddie clears his throat, sucks his teeth, and lifts an eyebrow. 

 

“Excuse me? Did I give you the impression that you’re in control here?” Richie’s eyes grew wide. “You’re not in control, Baby. You’ll take what I give you and be satisfied. Understand?” Richie nods. “Good boy.” Eddie sinks to his knees, still not touching Richie, just lets his breast ghost over Richie’s dick.

 

Richie stays still. He knows that if he doesn’t stay obedient, that Eddie will call the whole thing off. He’s rewarded for this when Eddie strokes his dick with his hand, pumping up and down slowing, making sure that Richie is fully hard. When he’s satisfied, he uses his tongue to swirl around the head. Richie has to bite his hand to control the moans.

 

“Take your hand out of your mouth. I want to hear you, hear all the little noises that you can’t keep in because you’re such a desperate slut. I want to hear you scream my name.” Richie takes his hand from his mouth and uses it to grip the table, knuckles going white.

 

Eddie takes the head in his mouth and sucks, his right hand gripping the base of Richie’s cock. Richie whines, throwing his head back. Eddie takes him down, all the way down. He let’s the head hit the back of his throat and swallows around it.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Eds. Ugh. That mouth. Ugh.” Eddie keeps working, pumping any of Richie’s length that’s not in his mouth at any given time. He reaches for Richie’s hand with his own free one, and places it in his hair, moaning when Richie grabs his hair. He nudges back into his hand, letting Richie know that he can fuck into his mouth. Richie stops leaning in the table and stands up. He holds Eddie’s jaw in one hand and the back of his head in the other and thrusts forward. Eddie moans around his cock and grabs his ass, encouraging him. Richie began thrusting at a brutal pace, pleasure taking over, when he got a little overzealous, Eddie tapped his hip and Richie knew to calm down, Eddie was still in control. Richie was making noises like crazy. Moans and groans slipping out. It fueled Eddie. He snuck his hand down and cupped Richie’s balls. “Ahhh, ugh, fuck yeah.” Richie felt the burn in his lower abdomen start to coil, growing and growing. 

 

He pulled his cock from Eddie’s mouth, and began pumping it in his own fist, drawing closer and closer to the edge, but knowing that he had to wait for permission. Eddie tilted his head back, preparing to be coated in his boyfriend’s cum. He looked Richie dead in the eye.

 

“You can cum now.” The words were barely out of his mouth before Richie tumbled over the edge, his cum landing in streaks across Eddie’s face as he screams his name. He stroked until he was sure that he was empty. Richie’s knees feel weak. He looks down at Eddie.

 

Eddie is still kneeling. Eyes squeezed shut with Richie’s cum all over his face. He looks incredibly uncomfortable. 

 

“Eddie, are you alright?” Eddie doesn’t answer right away, and it scares Richie a little bit. 

 

“Can you wipe this off of my face? Right. Now.” Eddie asks,moving his lips as little as possible. Richie lets out a little laugh but races to get a wet towel before Eddie kills him. He wipes off all traces of Jizz off of Eddie’s face. Eddie opens his eyes slowly, trying to make sure that nothing got in them. Richie helps Eddie up off of his knees and for the first time Eddie notices the wet spot on the front of Eddie’s pants.

 

“Holy shit. Did you cum just from sucking me off?” Richie wondered out loud. He regrets the words as soon as they are out and Eddie sends a glare in his direction.

 

“I may have cum when your cum hit my face.” He says without emotion. Already preparing himself for how obnoxious Richie is going to be about this. “Do not say a word. I’m just happy that you feel better and have stopped crying.”

 

“Eddie, will you be honest with me?” Eddie nods at his boyfriend's question. Of course, he’s always honest with him. “Do you think that I cry too much? Am I a crybaby.” Eddie takes a deep breath and thinks about how to phrase his response.

 

“I love that you feel comfortable with sharing your emotions. It shows how strong you are.” He starts, dreading the next part. “But you do cry over some things that are a little excessive. You don’t have to work yourself into a fit every time something hurts a little. You have to find a happy medium.”

 

“Okay.” Richie nods, “I’ll try to be more rational and cut down on the crybaby fits. I can accept that I meltdown over some simple things...and that I should be more mature.” Eddie hugs Richie, he knows how difficult that was for Richie to admit that.

 

“I love you, Crybaby Trashmouth.” Eddie says from where his head is resting on Richie’s chest.

 

“Yeeesh. Okay one more complaint. I hate the nickname Trashmouth. It’s hurtful. Really hurtful. And adding crybaby to it? That’s a nope.” Eddie’s eyes widen at Richie’s confession.

 

“Jeeze. You’ve never said anything about that, it’s a legitimate complaint!” Eddie throws his hands up. “I love you, Richard ‘Sweetmouth’ Tozier.” Richie smiles down at him.

 

“I love you, Edward Spaghetti Kaspbrak.” Richie expects the shove and the annoyed look.

 

“BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”


End file.
